


Gunkink

by corpsefluid



Series: Tumblr Tidbits [2]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Gun Kink, M/M, Violent Thoughts, failures in gun safety, simulated oral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 23:47:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3152852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corpsefluid/pseuds/corpsefluid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's honestly exactly what it says on the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gunkink

This couldn’t be happening.

This was _not_ happening.

Except it very distinctly was. Ocelot was harder than he could ever remember being and he wasn’t even being touched.

No, instead John was kneeling down in front of him with his lips wrapped around Ocelot’s revolver. So very, very close to his erection, but still not touching it. Not even giving him a little friction to tide him over. Ocelot was stuck helplessly wiggling against his own trousers, giving a high pitched whine from the back of his throat as John’s lips moved up against the body of the gun.

John was holding his free hand in a death grip, and Ocelot just couldn’t quite bring himself to let go of his revolver even for the prospect of some relief. Because then John would stop, and that would be worse than the frustration of being unable to touch himself right now.

Ocelot couldn’t decide which made him angrier.

The gun was heavy in his hand. Ocelot’s wrist adjusted to balance the pressure of John’s lips, keeping the barrel steady as the man sucked on it. It was an automatic reaction. He wasn’t thinking about it, he wasn’t thinking about anything but the torturous loop of John’s movement, his head bobbing up and down so rhythmically. 

Or he was trying not to.

The gun was heavy in his hand. A shot, maybe two. It was hard to focus, to count the bullets he had left with John’s lips sliding on the barrel. He could have. He always could. He had come far, _so far_ , from when he was just a child, caught unaware with an empty gun. He looked down at John whose eyes were closed in concentration. Far. 

Holding his breath, Ocelot moved his thumb to the hammer. His hand was steady, and yet everything else seemed to be shaking. They had come so far, John and him, and yet he still hadn’t seem to learn his lesson. Closing his eyes in front of him, kneeling helpless in front of a gun whose trigger Ocelot held. He was either stupid, or delusional. Maybe both. Ocelot didn’t know what that made him.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought about rewriting something with the same idea but to hell with it, on the fly collaborations are go.


End file.
